


6000 Years of NSFW

by Usedtobehmc



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Angelic powers that I'm making up on the fly, Angst, Art Inspired, BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Kids (Good Omens), Drabbles, F/M, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Gender or Sex Swap, Idiots in Love, M/M, Other, References to Torture, Scared Crowley (Good Omens), Scene: Flood in Mesopotamia 3004 BC (Good Omens), Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), Scene: Kingdom of Wessex 537 AD, Scene: rome, Sex, Short Chapters, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), Wings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-09-01 20:05:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usedtobehmc/pseuds/Usedtobehmc
Summary: Inspired by @lordasmodeus23 on Instagram, who is creating a delightful and delicious series of drawings with the same title.  I’m so in love with the series that I asked to write a little something to go along with each picture, and the wonderful wonderful lovely artist agreed to let me and my imagination go ham.Please enjoy the sexy, sexy scenes.Edit: Oh shit, there's a plot and angst and FEELINGS now.  We doing this.





	1. Garden of Eden

1\.  ** Garden of Eden  **

(drawing [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/B01qXHAK71ObihzIINgw2qIFqQtJIlHWlvzy980/?igshid=1xc5dna8lqmfm), artist profile [here](https://instagram.com/lordasmodeus23?igshid=ndcihcbrx2tw), you will have to follow to view the drawings!)

* * *

Aziraphale would never be able to clearly explain exactly what had inspired him in the Garden that fateful, beautiful morning. Even 6,000 years later after everything they’d shared and been through, it would still seem closer to a bizarre fever dream than an exhilarating and breathtaking romp. That first morning was completely unexpected, totally inexplicable, absolutely…. ineffable. 

Maybe it was the fact that Crawly told him he could probably never do the wrong thing: sarcasm or not it had eased Aziraphale’s fears for just a moment and he couldn’t stop affection from blooming in his chest. Maybe it was just that Crawly was the first creature he’d ever had a real conversation with on Earth (Adam and Eve had said very little, poor things had had a very trying few weeks). Maybe all the ‘frolicking’ Earth’s first humans had gotten up to had rubbed off on him…

The mysterious and beautiful Serpent was shockingly gentle; Aziraphale had expected (based on everything he’d been told about The Fallen) that a demon would be brusque and unconcerned with the comfort of another. But this demon with hair like embers directed him to his hands and knees on the soft ground with promises that placing his body in such a way would enhance his pleasure. Blushing, he accepted what he could only assume was vastly experienced advice and hiked up his robes.

As Crawly joined their corporeal bodies together and Aziraphale experienced sensations altogether new and overwhelming, he couldn’t stop the praise from pouring forth. It became a song, a worshipful hymn. The noises poured from his mouth and his wings twitched behind him as the demon’s ebony feathers caressed his alabaster ones. 

Behind him, Crawly grinned, for it was high praise of his technique indeed. 

  
  



	2. Noah's Ark

2\. **Noah's Ark**

(drawing [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/B1CnilQIOwTiV_1EfL9x9ZPAoQvn9Mto8qCbD80/), artist profile [here](https://instagram.com/lordasmodeus23?igshid=ndcihcbrx2tw), you will have to follow to view the drawings!)

* * *

Aziraphale’s motivations behind their second time were not quite so confounding. 

Aboard the ark, he’d been tasked by Heaven with staying out of sight and ensuring the safety of all the rescued animals for the duration of the voyage. The first few nights, he made the rounds and calmed the confused beasts, eased hunger pangs, blessed the pregnant females so they would have easy births and bring forth healthy offspring for a new era. 

On the third night Aziraphale stumbled upon the quiet and warm little nook where Crawly had tucked several stowaways; all very young children orphaned by The Great Flood. They slept soundly in a cozy tangle atop of bed of hay, bellies full of food that Crawly had clearly stolen from the overstocked food storage. Aziraphale felt a love shine from within his chest that he could not possibly have kept hidden even if he tried; he observed the sleeping children for another moment before stepping in closer and finding Crawly reclined off to the side of the small space, arms crossed and eyes closed, humming a low melody to himself. 

The wily demon heard Aziraphale’s shifting steps and startled; eyes full of something that looked like fear. They soon calmed when Aziraphale made no move to expose the deception, or call down holy vengeance or some such dramatics. Crawly gave him a smirk that bordered on bashful, as if to say ‘what did you expect?’

Aziraphale held out his hand. There was no mistaking the look on his face.

The demon accepted his hand and they left the children to sleep, soothed by the rocking of the boat.

The ark was cavernous and dark, with plenty of places to serve their purposes, and they found another secluded spot uninhabited by beast and man. Aziraphale sank into a mound of soft hay with the demon in his arms and kissed across his neck, humming little words of praise as he pushed him onto his back. Crawly grumbled but didn’t attempt to silence or stop him. For the most part, all he could do was clutch at the angel’s garments for dear life as he was kissed and touched and held with such perfect tenderness. 

The angel sat astride Crawly’s hips and after a minimum of preparation, sank down onto the hard and waiting cock with ease. They each held each other close and muffled the other’s noises, desperate to remain hidden and unseen but needing more and struggling to find ways to get it. Crawly rocked up into him, fucking slow and deep. The walls seem to come down between them; Aziraphale could sense a glow, a twinkle of something he hadn’t noticed before.

Ecstasy snuck up on Aziraphale, and it coursed through his body and onto Crawly’s stomach. Shocks and shivers zipped through him and he rode through it, grinding down hard to the rhythm of the beautiful sounds his strange bedfellow made in response. The glorious pleasure faded into the background of his mind as Crawly pursued his own end. Aziraphale leaned forward to touch his forehead to Crawly’s. In his giddy and sentimental haze, he whispered, “I feel as though we are two halves.” His warm breath caressed Crawly’s cheek.

Crawly seized his mouth and kissed him deeply, achieving his climax with sharp, powerful thrusts of his hips. 


	3. Golgotha

3\. **Golgotha**

(drawing [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/B1L9RjRICT7C1czqDWOw7Ba2c2NJ-GCxDC7fLY0/), artist profile [here](https://instagram.com/lordasmodeus23?igshid=ndcihcbrx2tw), you will have to follow to view the drawings!)

* * *

“Come, my dear.” Aziraphale sighed finally, after the sun had set. “There’s nothing to be done.” 

Crowley put on a brave face and attempted to remove the scowl from his features. He nodded and squared his shoulders, casting one last glance to the man from Galilee before turning and letting Aziraphale lead them both away. 

They began the long and solemn journey back to the main square, leaving the sounds of wailing and weeping to fade into the distance behind them. The road back was littered with people who had come from miles around to witness the crucifixion and they huddled together to share information of what they’d seen and send the word back home. 

Crowley and Aziraphale took their time walking in semi-comfortable silence with each other, neither quite knowing where exactly it was they were going. They didn’t exactly keep permanent homes and Crowley was just passing through between temptations and havoc-wreaking. Their spirits were heavy with what they’d witnessed, and it seemed to keep them close: they never strayed more than an arm’s length away from one another even though there was plenty of room on the road. 

Aziraphale felt a blush rise into his face when Crowley slipped a hand into the crook of his elbow. A simple gesture but it held so much behind it, as though they were young lovers out for an evening walk with arms linked in comfortable intimacy. Aziraphale reached and covered Crowley’s hand with his own, feeling that old familiar spark between them. One sideways glance was all it took to connect eyes and Crowley smiled at him: Aziraphale felt ten feet tall. His corporeal form, anyway. Memories rushed back, feelings bubbled to the surface, the yearning became unbearable. 

Sleeping with Crowley the first time may have been a fluke, but the second time was hardly a coincidence, and the third cemented it as a definite pattern. 

This time they ended up behind a local tavern; a warm and friendly place that smelled of fragrant tobacco and spiced meats, Aziraphale knew it well and had become a regular here of late. In a secluded corner of the alley, Aziraphale pressed Crowley’s lithe form against the wall and kissed him deeply, shuddering when the demon ran his fingertips through the short-cropped blond hair at the base of his neck and scratched. 

Pausing for air, Aziraphale leaned in close and inhaled the scent of Crowley’s long and luxurious hair, barely concealed by the black head covering. The demon seemed to glow from deep within, not something one could see, but something an angel could feel. “You’ve changed since the last time we met,” he breathed. 

Crowley clung to him, resting his cheek against Aziraphale’s head and shivering with contentment. “Something I’ve been trying out for a while now.” He gently took hold of the angel’s right hand and directed it downward between his legs. He chuckled when he felt Aziraphale’s fingers cup him through the robes and the subsequent waves of arousal that poured off of him when understanding dawned. 

“Different,” Aziraphale whispered, awed at how fascinating his strange bedfellow was and how utterly enraptured he was. He had changed not only in name, but in physicality. He shouldn’t have been surprised at the shifting of body seeing as how the first day they met Crowley had been a literal serpent, but that was 4,000 years ago, and now he knew the demon was not yet out of surprises.

“Better? Worse?”

Aziraphale smirked and shook his head, “Different. It’s still  _ you _ .”

There was a curious look on Crowley’s face that he barely had time to interpret before he was enveloped in a tidal wave of gentle fingers, lips, and tongue. “Take me, angel,” Crowley whispered. He couldn’t control this any longer, and as much as he dreaded these soft feelings, he felt he could finally welcome them with open arms. He wanted this, he wanted the angel, he wanted softness. He wanted everything demons viewed as weak and pitiful… _holy_. Aziraphale made him feel _holy_. 

The angel felt a hot rise of panic and arousal course through him; this was also new, doing the... taking. But he wanted to, and his body wanted to, and more importantly,  _ Crowley _ wanted him to… and so he would. Aziraphale nodded, cradling Crowley’s face in his hands, seeking out more contact with his lips. “Show me. Please. Frightfully unpracticed, I’m afraid.” 

“Talk about a sin,” Crowley shook his head, red tresses bouncing. He turned slowly within Aziraphale’s arms and faced the wall, hiking up his skirts with both hands. Then he began to kneel, and the angel sank with him, kissing across his shoulders all the way. 

Aziraphale felt that his cock might burst, he was so hard for this sublime creature. Tucking in as close as he could get, he felt that all of Crowley’s hard edges had softened just a little: his hips were not quite as sharp, his chest had the faintest suggestion of a swell instead of the hard flat planes from before. Between Crowley’s legs, there was an inviting warmth wet with anticipation. 

With Crowley’s help, he directed his cock forward into the writhing demon and they both sobbed with relief when he was fully seated inside. This felt too good to have gone this long without. Aziraphale’s technique was not up to par with Crowley’s, but there was a lot to be said for consideration and enthusiasm which he had plenty of. 

Crowley clung to the wall for dear life as Aziraphale became more at ease and began to pound into him harder and harder. The stretch of his hot, wet cunt around Aziraphale’s cock was the most delicious kind of pressure; like a deep tissue massage in a place no one else could reach. He had just began to go into a blissed-out trance of throbbing pleasure when Aziraphale reached around and began to caress his clitoris in rhythmic strokes. Crawley let out a wholly undignified noise and thrust back hard, hips coming alive with fiery pleasure. 

“Unpracticed,” Aziraphale chuckled, “not hopeless.” His iron hold on Crowley’s waist tightened as the demon thrashed and climaxed suddenly. Aziraphale couldn’t stop a broken moan from escaping when Crowley’s tight, wet inner walls spasmed and clenched as his cock, pulling him deep inside. Nearly in sync, they came shivering and clinging to each other. Aziraphale thrust deeply into Crowley as far as he could go as his pleasure crested, pulling the demon to lay flush against his chest. 

Kneeling together in the dirt, Aziraphale felt his cock become soft again and slip from Crowley’s warmth, an action that made them both sigh with regret. Crowley let himself be supported, head leaned all the way back on Aziraphale’s shoulder, hair splayed across both their backs. The angel kissed his neck and cheek, murmuring comforting things into his ear that he couldn’t quite translate. A language that seemed familiar but out of his realm of understanding. 

It would only be much later, perhaps even a year, before Crowley realized that Aziraphale had been giving him a pet name in the ancient language of the angels. “My Other Half.” 

  
  
  
  



	4. Rome

**4\. Rome**

(drawing [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/B1RxcJFoT4LqC11CQsHVd8t7mEfHZBpnNOmPqk0/?igshid=1wkrlglgdlm6a), artist profile [here](https://instagram.com/lordasmodeus23?igshid=ndcihcbrx2tw), you will have to follow to view the drawings!)

* * *

The oysters were… alright. Not really Crowley’s thing to be honest. A bit slimy. 

But Aziraphale. Oh, Aziraphale consumed the viscous morsels like they were manna from heaven, complete with some obscene little noise that seemed very familiar to Crowley.

The conversation was superficial and Crowley tried to maintain an air of casual boredom as they exchanged pleasantries about what they’d been up to in the last decade. But with every prim tip of an oyster shell into pink lips he rapidly lost the ability to look unaffected. He hunched over his wine and let the angel finish off their plate, revelling in every brush of an elbow or a knee against his. Luckily for him, the restaurant was crowded and they had to tuck in close to fit at a table.

Crowley regretted his earlier sour mood; he’d snapped at Aziraphale at the bar for reasons that had nothing to do with the angel and he felt the creeping tendrils of guilt working their way into his brain. In the previous 8 years he’d been… reprimanded by Hell for not being “evil” enough. He’d fouled up the temptation in the desert pretty spectacularly as he’d decided to give the poor guy a world tour instead of even attempting to draw him to sin. Apparently, Hell had kept tabs on that particular assignment (given the high status of the target) and were displeased to put it lightly. Crowley didn’t like to dwell on the memory, but his punishment had involved a lot of pain, a revocation of his shape-shifting abilities for the next 1000 years, and a hack-job "haircut" from Duke Hastur using a very blunt knife. It was off-putting enough that Crowley had been in a foul mood ever since, and his temptations had taken on an extra dark edge as of late. 

For the first time in several years the cloud of numbing darkness had begun to recede again. 

Aziraphale delicately knocked back another oyster and rolled his eyes dramatically. “Just wonderful,” he breathed with awed appreciation. “Oh, I meant to say before: I love what you’ve done with your hair.”

“My hair?” Crowley arched a sharp eyebrow, and his hand absent-mindedly crept up to pull at the strands at his neck. 

“Yes, it’s lovely. Suits you. Quite a change, I was shocked at first, but now I notice that it shows off your face very well. Also I think today is the first day in 4,000 years that I’ve seen your ears.” He smiled that easy, benevolent smile and Crowley felt his icy heart melt. 

***

“Oh Lord!” Aziraphale exclaimed when Crowley bucked his hips up hard and drove deep inside. Aziraphale clapped a hand over his mouth instantly, mortified at what he was 90% sure was sacrilege. His dismay quickly passed and was replaced as Crowley kept up his brutal, pounding pace and pleasure took over once again. He kept his hand over his mouth, just in case. 

Crowley laughed low and quiet behind him, a wide grin taking over his face. He reclined further and lay back against some of the overstuffed pillows that littered the villa he’d been calling home for only a few days. He had a lovely view: Aziraphale’s pale white ass bouncing on his lap like he was made of rubber (which wouldn’t be invented for many, many centuries, but is too apt a comparison to leave unsaid). He was precariously balanced but held steady by Crowley’s nimble but strong fingers at the hips, their supernatural strength lifting him up and pulling him back down to meet his snapping hips. 

Crowley sat up again and pulled at Aziraphale’s robes so that they lay flush against each other with the angel’s back to Crowley’s chest. “Come on then, let’s see…” Crowley let his chin rest on Aziraphale’s shoulder and took in the lovely sight of the angel’s cock bobbing and bouncing with every thrust of Crowley’s dangerously sharp hips. “Ooh yes, look at that.” He growled, voice thick with the purest lust. “Hard for me, aren’t you?”

Aziraphale nodded frantically, eyes clenched shut against the onslaught of pleasure that coursed through him every time the demon said anything at all in that rough, low voice. 

“Shall I _ give you a hand _ or would you like to touch yourself?” Crowley broke up the rhythm just a bit to get a reaction, and was rewarded with a shocked whimper that came out of Aziraphale like a gasp. 

The angel finally uncovered his mouth to answer, his voice broken with pleasure. “You… please, please touch me. I love your hands.”

Crowley pressed his nose into Aziraphale’s neck and inhaled, high on the smell of whatever expensive oils and perfumes the angel used to decorate his corporeal form. He trailed a hand down Aziraphale’s chest, over the soft swell of his stomach and down to his hard cock, straining and damp at the tip. Giving it a nice hard squeeze, he revelled in the answering unchecked moan. He was sort of hoping for more accidental blasphemy, but knew Aziraphale was unlikely to let that happen twice. 

He moved his hand up and down Aziraphale’s throbbing prick, letting the angel fuck the tight circle of his fingers until they found that magical, perfect rhythm between Crowley’s thrusts, Aziraphale’s thrusts, and Crowley’s hand. 

A minor adjustment of angles and Aziraphale’s hands scrambled for purchase on Crowley’s robes while the pitch of his moans climbed an octave. “Oh! Oh yes, my dear, that’s perfect, _ ngk _!” 

Crowley’s hand flew faster and Aziraphale clenched tight around him in response, suddenly going stiff and crying out. Watching the angel come had to be on Crowley’s list of Best Things Ever on Earth (a list that would eventually contain red wine, rock music, and The Bentley). He didn’t even mind that Aziraphale’s powerful orgasm resulted in thick ropes of come splattered on his legs. He grinned a wicked grin and let Aziraphale ride out his powerful aftershocks before ensnaring him in a tight hold and rocking his hips up as fast and hard as he could. 

Aziraphale nearly screamed, his entire body going limp as Crowley fucked the last traces of his climax out of him. His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open, there was something like an explosion in his chest….

Crowley came, suddenly more intensely than he had in a long, long time. It was as though he’d been slammed in the chest by a wave of…. Something. His thrusts became erratic and clumsy, and his cock pulsed deep inside Aziraphale. They slowly, ever so slowly, tipped to the side until Crowley’s numerous and ostentatious pillows welcomed their weight. 

Aziraphale seemed to be having trouble catching his breath, and Crowley felt similarly off-kilter. 

“What…” Crowley huffed, not yet releasing his tight hold of Aziraphale’s chest. “What was that?”

“I--” Aziraphale stuttered, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his robe. “I felt, in that moment… well. Love.”

Crowley’s grip loosened. “What d’you mean, Love? You _ love _ me?” A thick, acidic grip took hold low in his spine. 

“Well I, I suppose I do, yes. But… but that’s not what I meant. When I sense something like that, it tends to…” he made a vague gesture with both hands. “Come out. Of me. Like a… an emotional mirror.” 

Crowley stayed silent. 

“I felt _ your _ love, my dear.” 

Ice. Icy cold fear suddenly took hold of Crowley and before he could stop himself he was unceremoniously disentangling himself from Aziraphale’s warm embrace and stuttering out some excuse about needing some air. 

He ignored Aziraphale's small noises of protest as he barrelled out the door. And in a move he regretted for the next five centuries, he didn't go back. 

  
  



	5. Medieval

5\. **Medieval**

(drawing [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/B1eqI2GobMRFvtMFigGH_Kz2zJH88RQpbfxn-I0/?hl=en), artist profile [here](https://instagram.com/lordasmodeus23?igshid=ndcihcbrx2tw), you will have to follow to view the drawings!)

* * *

“As long as you’re being seen to be doing _ something… _ every now and again…” Crowley felt himself sinking into the tone and timbre of voice he used for his temptations. It wasn’t one he’d ever thought to try with Aziraphale before: it never even occurred to him that it might work. He swayed ever so slightly, pulling Aziraphale’s gaze with the gentle motions as though he were the tied sweeping him out to sea…

“NO,” Aziraphale barked, shaking the fuzz out of his head that he hadn’t even noticed settling there. “Absolutely not! I am shocked that you would even imply such a thing!”

Shut down, Crowley raised his eyebrows and let Aziraphale shout for a moment. It wasn’t like the angel to be so touchy, especially with him. 

Not that…

Not that he’d stayed in contact at all over the last 500 years. 

Ah, the guilt was back. And it did not return gently. 

“We’re not having this conversation, not another word!” Aziraphale spun on his heel and stomped away, armor clanging with every step, gleaming and beautiful and a righteous pain in the arse. 

“Right…” Crowley offered, timid for once in a *very* long while indeed. 

“RIGHT.” Aziraphale called back over his shoulder, quickly putting distance between them as fast as possible. 

Crowley put his faceplate back in place and threw his hands up in frustration: he’d honestly meant to save Aziraphale some trouble, but he should have known it would go down like that old proverbial lead balloon. 

“Lads, set up camp for the night. I’m going after the White Knight by myself. If I don’t return…” he paused. His not-so-merry band of haggard mercenaries leaned in close, hanging on his every syllable. “Eh, forget the whole thing, I suppose.” 

Good enough.

Crowley mounted his horse, a pitch-black, war-bred beast of fury and speed and set to catching up with Aziraphale, who had somehow managed to disappear into the mist without leaving footprints. 

***

Aziraphale sat tall and proper on his horse, back ramrod straight and eyes locked dead ahead. He sensed Crowley coming before he heard the galloping of hooves in the soft, damp earth, the dark aura of Hell creeping into his ethereal vision could only portend the demon’s inevitable arrival. He sent his squires away into the woods, with promises to find them later. “My battle with the Black Knight shall be mine and mine alone,” he told them, and they asked no questions, though their awe-filled eyes burned with curiosity and admiration. 

The hoofbeats slowed and in the corner of his vision, Crowley sidled up on his left side, giving his horse a cursory pat to calm its wild twitching. “Still angry with me, then?”

“I can’t *possibly* imagine what you’re talking about.” The angel offered him no eye contact and encouraged his horse to trot just a wee bit faster. 

“It was a long time ago, angel--”

“In not but a few seasons, it will have been exactly 500 years, Crowley. 500 years.” There was a nearly imperceptible slump of his shoulders and his stare grew distant. “Not a word, not a message or a scrap of parchment, not a visit.” 

Crowley felt the air around them grow colder, their breath appearing before them like puffs of white smoke. He scrambled silently for words. “You know, there’s a lovely tavern only a few hours ride from here…”

In an instant, Aziraphale twisted to face him, reached out to grab him by the breastplate and yanked him close, nearly taking him clean off the horse’s back. His eyes were wild and wet, threatening to spill over at any moment. “I keep expecting to hear an _apology, _isn’t that silly? An apology for how you treated me, for how you--” a tear did fall then, wending its way down his cheek and clearing a path for the next. “For how you _fucked_ me and ran away, like I was disgusting.” He released the demon’s armor and the recoil nearly toppled Crowley. 

“Angel, no--”

“Can you imagine,” He ranted, voice rising steadily in pitch and volume, “the scene: me, alone, covered in your… wondering if you’re coming back. Waiting all night. Then two days pass and it occurs to me that… that you’ve gone. You’ve _ left me _. And you’re not coming back.”

Crowley couldn’t keep Aziraphale’s gaze, he felt shame for the first time…. Well, ever. 

“Did you come all this way to get away from me?” Aziraphale asked and he actually looked heartbroken, no trace of anger left in his face. “Did you… turn into a great, black bird and fly here to the cold and damp in hopes that I wouldn’t follow?” 

This time he waited for an answer, the fight had left him bereft and exhausted and horrified that the answer might be yes and all his worst thoughts about seeing Crowley again would actually be true. 

Crowley was aware that he should say something, but his mouth was hanging open and seemed to be stuck while he scrambled for any kind of explanation for his behavior. “I um, actually I walked. Can’t change into any sort of man nor beast, not for another 500 years.” 

Aziraphale squinted and his eyebrows scrunched together. “I don’t…”

“I’m being punished. For mucking up the whole Temptation of Christ in the Desert thing. Hell took away my shape-shifting for 1000 years to teach me a lesson.”

Oh no, oh no Aziraphale had a look on his face like he was horrified and Crowley didn’t know how to stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. He had no one else to tell. Literally no one. He’d been alone all this time. And there was so much he needed to say.

“I’ll tell you, worst thing about it is I’ve had the same haircut for centuries and it’s come into and gone out of style at least 87 times,” he joked, though his expression read more like someone stepping on glass. 

Taking away his ability to ‘shift’ was very nearly the worst thing Hell could have done to him. Aziraphale knew that. And Crowley knew Aziraphale knew. And what was worse, Aziraphale knew that Crowley knew that he knew… 

“When did this happen?” Aziraphale’s horse stopped walking and bent to nibble some grass.

Crowley pulled on the reins a bit to slow his own horse. “Year or two after Golgotha. Spent a few months in the pit. Not the worst I’ve ever had.”

“_ Crowley _.” It wasn’t a sob, but the weight of it was the same. “You should have told me.” 

Bless and blast it, Crowley had somehow managed to break his heart again. 

“Aziraphale. I’m sorry.”

“Darling, it…”

“I am. Rotten of me, shouldn’t have done it, not to you.” 

In a graceful swoop, Aziraphale dismounted his horse and came around to lead it off the beaten path. “Come, Crowley,” he called back, without a trace of malice. 

Had the tone of the conversation been a car, Crowley would have gotten whiplash. 

**

“Angel, what are we doing?” Crowley did his best to keep pace with the determined angel, following him deeper and deeper into the thicket of the woods. 

Aziraphale’s face was like stone, but the anger was completely gone, and the familiar kindness of his eyes had begun to seep back, tears dried and forgotten. 

“I’m going to try and heal you and I don’t want to be anywhere near the road in case there are travellers nearby.”

That set Crowley a few paces back. He trotted to catch up again. “You’re not allowed to heal a demon. You’re certainly not of the pay grade to reverse a Hellish Rebuke. Heaven wouldn’t stand for it,” Crowley was coming up with reasons against this harebrained scheme faster than he could vocalize them. 

“Crowley, _ honestly _.” Aziraphale shook his head in that affectionate way that made Crowley feel safe and chastised and absurdly affectionate. “Heaven has no idea that for the last 4000 years I’ve frequently been engaged in carnal relations with a demon of Hell. An egregious, career-ending transgression.” The angel pushed some flora aside and they happened upon a clearing in the thicket, surrounded by trees with plentiful branches that did an admirable job of blocking out the already scare sunlight. He turned and helped Crowley step over some twisted roots that got underfoot. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve, Crowley. I’m a Principality.”

He held Crowleys hand, still. The demon felt emotions bubbling up in his chest and fought to tamp them down. “That won’t work forever.”

“No. Only when it’s important.” 

His eyes glowed white.

**

Over the next 1.5 millenia, Crowley would come up with several analogies for how it felt when Aziraphale released the shape-shifting shackles Hell had placed on him. Among his favorites were: 

  1. Removing a too-tight steel corset from the entirety of his spine. 
  2. Prying loose metaphysical horseshoes that had been mistakenly nailed to his shoulder blades by a blind sadist with a rock.
  3. Emerging from a boiling pond after fighting to reach the surface for 500 years to take a breath.

Most of all, even though Aziraphale only held him by the hands (or rather, the gauntlets), it felt like being intimate again; pieces of Aziraphale crept their way into his body and poked around for Hell’s accursed fingerprints, scrubbing them out and caressing him in a place and in a way that nothing else could. 

As the beacon of light faded, Crowley could see again though tears clouded his vision. He took deep, gulping breaths. It was shocking how much better he felt, and how quickly the memory returned of what it was like to feel this way all the time. Had he really been so mangled inside for so many years that it had simply become the new normal?

Aziraphale’s eyes dimmed finally as well, and he rocked once onto his heels, finding his balance again. “Oh dear, there we are,” he blinked and shook his head. “How do you feel?”

The demon’s chest heaved and he levelled a hard stare at him. “Angel. I need you inside me.”

“Oh!”

“_ Right now _.” 

**

Clang

Clang

Clang

Clang

Aziraphale couldn’t keep himself from chuckling. The noise was ridiculous, their heavy armor clanked together with every forward motion and made an unmistakable racket. 

The position was new, they’d never had sex in this ‘configuration’ before, with Crowley in a typically male body receiving Aziraphale’s powerful ‘attentions.’ Aziraphale had no complaints: Crowley’s body was tight and warm and hard yet soft in all the right places and that demon knew how to make an angel feel appreciated with all the noises he was making. Low moans and high, throaty whines, commands through clenched teeth, loud gasping breaths of surprise when Aziraphale tried something different, and plenty of nonsensical dirty talk that would have been embarrassing if it hadn’t been so fucking sexy. “Harder, angel _ YESssss _.” Crowley’s head tipped back and his back arched to a more extreme angle.

Clang

Clang

Clang

“You know, my dear…” Aziraphale paused his powerful thrusting, giving himself time to stave off his impending orgasm to point out something they hadn’t considered when they miracled away the lower half of their armor and fell to the ground rutting like animals. “We could have waited to be back at the tavern to take the armor off.”

Crowley slapped the ground with a hand still clad in a gauntlet and glared at Aziraphale over his shoulder, frustration clear on his face. “I’ve been waiting for too long, angel! So shut up, and _ pound me _.” He reared back, pushing Aziraphale’s hard cock deeper into his ass. 

He simply had to roll his eyes, but Aziraphale was in no position to refuse. He shook both of his hands until they were free of the leather gloves and gauntlets and grabbed Crowley by the hips. 

Well. He did insist.

**

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Aziraphale’s squires gazed into the sunset as the fire of their campsite burned brightly. 

“The battle escalates,” one of them observed, as the sound of what they could only assume was the clashing of swords intensified in speed.

“Trust in the White Knight,” the elder one assured the two younger ones, wide-eyed with anxiety. “There are none in this world or the next that can endure his might.” 

The younger two nodded, assured. 


	6. The Globe Theatre

  1. ** The Globe Theater**

(drawing [here](https://www.instagram.com/p/B1pEvIaI9Xhz2JOWTyLcH7VaMFehhtxx2arTbE0/?hl=en), artist profile [here](https://instagram.com/lordasmodeus23?igshid=ndcihcbrx2tw), you will have to follow to view the drawings!)  
  
  


* * *

“Oh  _ Crowley _ ,” Aziraphale heaved out a great breath as the aforementioned demon hiked the angel’s leg up higher. “I have missed you,  _ particularly _ … this last century.” His affectionate remarks had to make way for the high-pitched moan of pleasure that forced its way out and permeated the room. 

Crowley plunged his cock deeper into Aziraphale’s tight ass and his head fell back to knock against the sofa where they had initially collapsed in the throes of a powerful force that Aziraphale refused to call lust. 

“And I you,” Crowley growled, making a show of groping Aziraphale’s chest and sides through his ornate garments. His hands were always so greedy in these moments, and they just needed the feel of the angel’s soft flesh, they needed to leave bruises and marks, almost out of Crowley’s control. One greedy hand ran up the expanse of Aziraphale’s pale, white thigh, dragging his nails and making him squirm with sensation overload. “S’why I sought you out, knew you’d be here,  _ patronizing _ the artssss.” 

Aziraphale chuckled, breathlessly. “That hiss of yours, are you getting close, Crowley?”

Instead of answering, he pulled Aziraphale’s legs as far open as they would comfortably reach and the angel  _ wailed _ in response to being spread open and exposed even more. This position allowed Crowley a depth that was not easy to reach without serious acrobatics on Aziraphale’s part, and the demon took strict advantage, fucking into him with long hard rolls of his entire body. Aziraphale could feel his entire length pumping into him like this, dragging over his prostate with every thrust. 

Aziraphale arched his back and pushed himself back into Crowley without shame. 

They no longer had any reservations about  _ This _ .  _ This _ was just something they did,  _ This _ kept them sane. In the last 1,000 years and then some, THIS was the only constant in their ageless lives and they made sure to take advantage at every opportunity. It had been easier to fall into this rhythm, ever since that evening in the woods when Aziraphale had pulled the hellish shackles from his shape-shifting abilities. 

Easier. Easier since  _ The Arrangement _ . 

  
  


******

  
  


_ **537 A.D.** _

_ **5 minutes into the comfortable, post-coital silence between an angel and a demon** _

“Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured somewhat tentatively, flat on his back in the soft grass. “I don’t want to lose this again.”

“This?” Asked Crowley, similarly flat on his back, cozy as anything. 

“This,” Aziraphale motioned to the space between the two of them. “What is this? I don’t think we’ve ever stopped to wonder what exactly we’re doing.”

“This.” Crowley wondered, somewhat dreamily. “This is…. Comfortable.”

“This is exciting.”

“This is… good?” Crowley ventured with a raised eyebrow.

“This is right.” Aziraphale confirmed, rolling onto his side and resting a hand on Crowley’s armor-clad chest. 

They smiled at each other, briefly. Only briefly. 

“This has to stay secret.” Crowley reminded them both. They had a moment of quiet as they remembered exactly what they were putting at risk to have it. 

“Let us go back to the way it was, before the  _ ugliness _ in Rome. I shan’t speak of it ever again if it means we can have this. And besides… when you get down to it.... I’ve been wrong before, loathe as I am to admit it. It was unfair of me to make such wild assumptions in a moment of such heightened emotions. My fault, all. Maybe we can just… crack on?” He clung to Crowley, and his voice was so earnest that the demon couldn’t help but close his eyes against the onslaught of emotions that burbled up from a deep, dark, black place in the pit of his substitute-for-a-soul. 

He couldn’t admit now that Aziraphale had been right. He HAD felt love,  _ real _ love for the angel. It was supposed to be impossible. Every demon he’d ever known, every angel, Lucifer HIMSELF had told him that demons were incapable of love. And yet. Not only did he feel it, but Aziraphale had felt it as well. And it nearly tore apart what they had together. As much as it sent a spike through his chest cavity, Crowley was beginning to think it was best to keep his defect under his hat, so to speak. 

If Aziraphale ever found out how absolutely correct he’d been, back in Rome that one afternoon, any plausible deniability he had in the event they were caught would be out the window. If Aziraphale knew they loved each other… he’d fall. Something terrible would happen that Crowley wouldn’t be able to undo. 

That could not happen.

“Yes. Yes, I agree. Let’s… I want that if you want that. Back to the way it was.”

“Oh,” the feeling of relief was  _ palpable _ and it pricked like a bee’s stinger straight to the chest. “Good.” He tucked in close and let his head rest on Crowley’s shoulder. “Surely there’s some way we can do our jobs  _ and _ remain close.” 

“An… arrangement? Of sorts?”

“If anyone can make it work, we can.” 

*******

  
  


Crowley came with a guttural moan that vibrated through both of them. He thrust through his orgasm, letting Aziraphale’s tight hole pull the come from him with every long drag and clench. Aziraphale, who had not yet climaxed, rocked gently back against Crowley, helping him make it last as long as possible, knowing the sort of thing Crowley liked in this brief moment between the peak of ecstasy and over-sensitivity. 

And Crowley noticed these purposeful movements, all for him, solely for his enjoyment. 

With some quick maneuvering, he deposited Aziraphale onto the sofa and chuckled at the “ooof, really” comment that the angel huffed out at being thrown about. 

Before another protest could escape Aziraphale’s lips, Crowley ducked between those pale white thighs and took the beautiful cock deep into his mouth and down his throat. Immediately, Aziraphale’s fingers were deep in his hair, pulling not too hard and twisting not too violently. He cried out, head thrown all the way back, “Good LORD, Crowley!” 

It was hard to smile with a throbbing prick shooting come past his tonsils, but the smile somehow translated into Crowley’s eyes. Blasphemy, sweet blasphemy, it really did it for him. 

He opened his eyes when Aziraphale’s twitching had begun to ebb and tamped down on the jolt of panic when he saw a soft glow emanating from the angel’s chest. 

It was happening again.

He closed his eyes.  _ Keep it down, push it down, away away away, calm yourself you disgrace, push it DOWN _ . He peeked through one eye, relieved to see it working. He focused on laving his tongue over Aziraphale’s cock, softening quickly even under his ministrations.  _ Focus on the body, the carnal, the sin... _

The angel hadn’t noticed the glow, and it faded before Aziraphale could gather his wits enough to open his eyes. He seemed content to just play with Crowley’s luxurious red hair and bask in the afterglow. Luckily for Crowley, Aziraphale’s hedonistic tendencies had saved his hide. 

“Oh my dear,” dreamy and sweet, his voice lilted to Crowley’s ears like a song. “Thank-you!” 

Crowley let Aziraphale slide gently from his mouth with a parting lick. “Couldn’t let you spunk all over your lovely doublet, could I?”

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose, but seemed to appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. He sighed, finally opening his eyes. “I suppose I should prepare to leave for Edinburgh.”

“Oh, you’ll be back soon enough. Eating grapes and encouraging shit actors to be gloomy and indecisive.” 

“It’s really not that bad a play!” Aziraphale protested, making room for Crowley on the sofa. “I like it. I think you’d like it if you gave it a chance and saw it from the beginning. We should see it together if it’s still playing when I get back.”

“I liked ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ well enough. That was a good one, not this dramatic, endless chatter.” 

Aziraphale snaked a hand around Crowley’s torso and landed a peck on his cheek. “Of course you liked that one, you’re clearly a Puck.” He stood and set about to finding the rest of his clothes from where they’d been scattered across the room. 

“Does that make you a Bottom?” 

Aziraphale snapped and Crowley’s goatee disappeared. 

“Fair enough.” 


End file.
